


forever, together.

by SeeThemFlying



Series: Unspoken [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post ADWD, Post Stoneheart, Post-Canon, book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: Brienne is crying.Jaime doesn't know what to do about it.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Unspoken [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024483
Comments: 22
Kudos: 140





	forever, together.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [letters2the0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letters2the0/gifts).



> Hey guys! I am planning a second chapter of my love, we are bound, but this one suddenly popped into my head so I decided to write it. This is for the lovely letters2the0, who is an all around sweetheart when it comes to being encouraging. I hope they enjoy!

The wench is crying, big blue tears that could fill an ocean. Several oceans. All the seas in the known world. She has buried her face in her hands so he can't see her eyes, giving into the terrible despair that makes her shoulders shudder and her breathing quicken. It is as if someone has pulled her shroud over her, removing her from his view.

Jaime doesn't know what to do.

She had started crying when they arrived at the inn, the rainwater and the blood making the material of her jerkin stick to her skin. As she had barely been able to stand up, Jaime had looped her arm over his and kept her upright by sheer force of will. The wench was heavy, after all.

"M'lord," the rather shocked looking innkeeper had said, "what is...?"

Too scared for the wench to answer his questions, Jaime had thrown a handful of dragons at the man and shouted at him to take him to a room - _any_ room - because the Lady Brienne needed some _goddamn peace._

"What should I do, my lord?" asked Podrick timidly, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes.

Jaime was about to shout at him too - didn't he have any initiative of his own? - but then the innkeeper pulled him back and said, "go see Doris and get some food for the lady, lad." He gestured towards the bar. "I'll take ser and the lady up to their rooms."

The room is small - there was only one bed - but there is a lock and a fire, so the moment the innkeeper had mumbled something about wine and servants and keys, Jaime almost threw him from the chamber, hoping that if they were alone, the wench would stop crying.

She doesn't.

Jaime sits on the bed beside her, watching her whole body shake. The wench is crying in a way that possesses her entirely - from the top of the head to the tips of the toes - and is propelled by a grief so black it is hard to see through. Oathkeeper had gone clattering to the floor the moment they entered the room, still slick with Catelyn Stark's blood, but the wench hasn't looked at it. She is too devoted to her weeping; her never-ending, infuriating, heart-breakingly awful sobbing that sounds as if it is being ripped from her throat, bloody and brutal.

He wonders where Pod is with the wine. Tyrion always drunk lots of wine when he was sad. Maybe Arbor Red will make Brienne happy, happier than Jaime can make her anyway. He doesn't need her to smile, just... not _this_.

He shuffles on the bed, hoping the subtle shift of the mattress might wake the wench from her torment. It doesn't. He then clears his throat and, unfortunately, that doesn't work either. Gods, he wishes she would shut up. If she doesn't be quiet soon, Jaime is worried his heart will break.

"Wench?"

He gets nothing but more sobs.

"Wench?"

More weeping.

"Come on, wench. If you keep on like this, I'll start to think you are crying because I didn't get hanged by those outlaws back there."

The wench sniffles into her hands, still refusing to show him her pretty eyes. Nevertheless, she managed to find the strength to talk. "Stop it." Hidden behind tears, her words are part rebuke, part plea.

Seeing as she stops focussing on her weeping for a fraction of a second to speak, Jaime grabs his chance, as if it were one of the ledges he used to climb from the window of his room to Cersei when he was a boy. "Oh, she _can_ speak."

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Goading me!" she snaps.

Turning to look at him, Brienne's eyes are filled with rage, her cheeks flushed and the wound on her cheek red and angry. From somewhere inside, Jaime hears Cersei's voice - _gods, look at that ugly cow!_ \- but Jaime ignores her. Brienne isn't ugly. Brienne is _Brienne_. Nothing about her obeys the rules, so why should the particular shape of her beauty be conformist?

"I'm not goading you." She looks down at her hands disbelievingly. "I'm _not!_ It's just that you are crying and I... I..."

"What?"

Jaime stops talking, trying to find the right words. "I don't like it."

The wench stares at him a moment - her big blue eyes getting wider, revealing their kaleidoscopic wonder - before she snorts with amusement. "Oh, I _am_ sorry," she says bitterly. "I'm sorry that I just saved your neck killing my liege lady and now my tears are disturbing you. If it bothers you so much, why don't you go and find another room? I'm sure the dragons you threw at the innkeeper will have bought you every chamber in the building!"

Turning away from him once more, Brienne buries her face in her hands and curls in on herself, her tears once again overtaking her. Even though she is tall and strong, Jaime is suddenly struck by how small she is, delicate even. It is as if her heart - tender and wounded and too big for its own good - has become stretched over her skin, close enough for Jaime to touch.

 _Will she let me hold her?_ he thinks suddenly, quite out of the blue. _Will she want me near?_

Before he can stop himself, Jaime scoots up behind her, shuffling so she is between his legs. Pressing his front to her back, he curls his arms around her, keeping them snug under her little breasts. The wench freezes, her weeping ceasing in an instant.

"What are you doing?" she asks, her words a whisper.

Jaime smiles against her neck. Gods, she smells so good.

"Jaime!"

He doesn't answer her; he is too distracted by her strength and softness.

"Jaime!" she hisses again, her nervousness palpable. "What are you doing?"

Closing his eyes, Jaime presses his cheek against hers, golden skin against freckles. He can feel her tension, so gently strokes her belly through the material of her shirt. She shivers, this time not due to her tears.

" _Jaime."_

"Shh..." he whispers. "Let me hold you... if it will stop your tears."

He can feel her resistance for a few moments more in the tight, tense way she holds her body, and it only lessens when he presses a kiss into the freckled expanse of her neck. She gasps. Jaime tries to ignore what that sound does to him between his legs.

"Cry if you want, Brienne," he says, before pressing one more kiss to her cheek. "I'll comfort you."

With a sigh, she relaxes into him, and lets him hold her, really _hold_ her. For the first time, there is true silence between them. No bickering, no arguing, no fighting... just peace.

She is so close, that Jaime decides the only thing to do is kiss her again. On the lips.

By the time she kisses him back, the tears are long gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think!


End file.
